


on brokenness and healing

by prettyaveragewhiteshark



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Paralysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9720893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyaveragewhiteshark/pseuds/prettyaveragewhiteshark
Summary: One-shot: Korra, an all-star athlete with a bright future, experiences a devastating injury that completely changes her life. Asami takes her on a date to help get her mind off of things, and the evening reveals a new hope for Korra.





	

The air was hot and bright; the sun glinted off the lake. Laughter and chatter and shouts from a vigorous game of beach volleyball echoed across the sand. Korra’s heart was pounding, sweat gleaming on her forehead. She set the ball, bouncing it deftly off the tips of her fingers, and Asami spiked it hard over the net. Mako went face-first into the sand trying to save the ball, to no avail. 

Korra whooped, punching her fists into the air.

“Game point, suckers!”

She slapped five with Asami before throwing her arms around her girlfriend’s neck, planting a big kiss on her cheek.

“Nice spike, baby. That was beautiful.”

“Best three out of five!” Mako yelled indignantly.

Korra looked over her shoulder. 

“Give it up, Mako. We kicked your asses twice. Because you’re my friend, and because I love you, I’m not gonna do it again. Your ego can thank me later.”

Asami laughed and they half stumbled, half trotted over to the truck, their arms draped around each other. Korra popped the lid on a cooler, rummaging through the ice and drinks.

“Whatcha want, Asami? We’ve got...coke, sprite, Mike’s hard, gatorade...”

“Gatorade,” came the reply. 

Korra grabbed one for herself, tossing the other to Asami.

“Drink up, champ.”

Korra drank deeply, her eyes sweeping across the lake. Happiness welled up in her chest. Junior year had been a smashing success; she’d taken home championship trophies for volleyball and soccer, and colleges were lining up at the door to offer her full-ride scholarships. Senior year was sure to be a breeze, and then real life - the gleaming gold of college - was waiting for her. 

She put down her gatorade and took Asami’s hand.

“Come on, let’s swim.”

They raced to the dock where Korra climbed onto one of the posts. She turned to Asami, saluted her, and then swan dived into the water. Asami waited for her to come up, not wanting to land on her by jumping in blind. Moments passed. The water grew still. The smile faded from Asami’s lips, worry creasing her brow. She leaned over the water, searching for signs of movement, reminding herself that it wasn’t unlike Korra to prank her every now and again. 

Then Korra’s body floated to the surface, face down and unmoving. 

“ _ Korra! _ ”

Asami didn’t hear the way her scream echoed across the beach, didn’t notice that it got the attention of everyone at the party, silencing all noise but the music playing from someone’s phone. She dropped into the water, reaching Korra in a few short strokes. She pulled her body close, flipping her over. Korra was awake. She gasped, coughing up water, but she didn’t flail or struggle in Asami’s arms. Asami locked her arm over her chest, stroking backward toward the dock. 

Mako and Bolin stood there already, shouting Korra’s name, reaching toward them to lift Korra out of the water the moment Asami got within arm’s reach. Asami crawled up after her, her heart pounding uncomfortably hard. Korra was alive, she was breathing, but something else was deeply wrong. Asami knelt beside her.

“Korra, what happened?”

Her blue eyes were panicked. It seemed like she was struggling to breathe. Asami vaguely registered Bolin’s frantic voice talking to a 911 dispatcher on his phone. Korra’s head jerked, but her body lay still. Asami took her hand, but Korra didn’t respond to the touch.

“Asami,” she gasped. “Asami, I can’t move. I can’t move.”

 

* * *

 

Paralysis, the doctor told her. Quadriplegia. 

“We can put you in therapy,” she’d said. Her voice was steady and quiet, as though she and Korra were the only ones in the room. “But the damage to your C4 vertebrae was severe. False hope is dangerous, and I want you to understand your situation. The likelihood of you ever walking or regaining use of your arms is very low.”

She continued explaining methods for therapy and how Korra could function in the meantime, but her words fell on deaf ears. Korra was staring past her, looking out the window. The sky was as blue and bright as it had been a week ago. 

A week ago. 

A week, and her world had collapsed. Her body was no longer her own. It refused to obey her commands, laying inert and lifeless in the hospital bed despite her fury, her tears, her insistence that the universe turn back time and undo her fateful dive. All the hope for her future, all her aspirations, every possibility that had been at her fingertips had been ripped away, and she spiraled into despair. She ate only when she had to, and took to staring out the window for hours at a time. Asami was there every free moment she had, reading to her, talking to her, playing Korra’s bedside bouncer and escorting visitors out politely when she could tell that Korra couldn’t stand to be around people anymore. 

The weeks passed slowly. Korra’s family did all they could for her, but more often than not it was Asami at her side. She stayed, holding Korra when she broke down sobbing, standing stiffly when Korra’s temper snapped and she raged uncontrollably. But she stayed. More than once she fell asleep in the chair at Korra’s bedside, the back of her hand resting against the side of Korra’s neck where she could feel it. And when Korra was discharged from the hospital in her electric wheelchair, Asami was the one walking with her out of the hospital, helping her into her family’s new handicapped van, riding home with her. 

Korra adjusted. She was still angry, still terrified of a future without the use of her limbs, but she adapted. She practiced using her wheelchair’s sip and puff function, though it proved to be more of a challenge than she could have anticipated. More than once she collided with a wall or piece of furniture and, though Asami often tried to back her out of her stuck position, she insisted on freeing herself even though it would take her several minutes. 

A few weeks from the beginning of the school year, Asami asked her on a date. 

“Not just hanging out in your living room,” she’d said. “I want to take you out.”

Korra was reluctant; it had been months since she’d really left the house, or worn anything more than a t-shirt and sweats. But Asami’s eyes were earnest and her mouth was soft as she kissed Korra’s ear and neck.

“Please, baby?”

It was an offer Korra couldn’t refuse. 

Her mother helped her get dressed that night in an outfit she’d chosen specifically after Asami asked her to dress up - black slacks, a nice button-up shirt, complete with bowtie and suspenders, and her best oxfords. Senna braided her hair, pinning it to one side, and applied Korra’s makeup carefully. Korra assessed herself in the mirror, and nodded with the barest hint of a smile. 

_ Not bad, wheel chair and all.  _

Asami arrived at 7 o’clock sharp, as she had promised, and she stole Korra’s breath away. She wore a long sleeved, blood-red sheath dress, the collar dipping low to show off her collar bones and highlight the dainty silver necklace that rested against her skin. She smiled when she saw Korra.

“Damn, my girlfriend knows how to clean up.”

“I could say the same for you,” Korra replied, a little breathless.

She helped Korra out the door, promising over her shoulder to have her back before midnight.

They took her parent’s van downtown. Korra was more than a little shocked when they pulled into a valet parking lot in front of the city’s impressive art museum. Asami helped her disembark, and they entered the building together. 

People milled around the massive, white marbled hall. Modern art paintings adorned the walls and took up space across the floor in various exhibits. The frames were huge, two or three times the height of the average man, and about as wide. Korra took it all in, quiet and awed. 

“I’m sorry it’s a little crowded,” Asami apologized. “Tonight is the opening event for this exhibit.”

Korra didn't respond, and Asami looked down at her. Her heart swelled. Korra’s eyes were wide and brighter than they'd been since her accident. A small smile curved the corners of her mouth, and it showed even as she blew into the tube on her chair to roll forward. They moved through the exhibit together, Asami reading the descriptions of each painting aloud to Korra while she gazed at the art, both listening and looking intently to fully absorb the spirit of each piece. Every so often, she'd chime in, pointing out to Asami something in particular she liked about this painting or that one. The lightness of her voice, the way she spoke with interest and vigor, lifted Asami’s soul, and for neither the first nor the last time tonight, Asami felt deeply grateful that Korra had agreed to come here with her. 

One painting in particular made Korra stop dead, cutting her off halfway through a sentence. She turned her chair slowly, eyes fixated on the artwork. Asami looked up at it too. The canvas was swathed almost entirely in the color blue, what seemed like a hundred different shades. The colors formed a circular shape. The outer portion of it was deep blue, nearly black, and Asami could only see it as the color of night. As her eyes moved across the canvas, toward the interior of the circle, she watched the colors change from darkness to a twisting storm of color, myriad hues woven together in a dance of beautiful chaos. Other colors, red and green and pink, shot through the sea of blue. At the very center of the circle was the lightest color of all, a perfect orb of white. Asami thought for a moment that this circle could easily be seen as the view from the dark end of a tunnel pointing outward to sunlight, or looking up from a deep well. 

She glanced down at Korra and was surprised and worried to see that she had tears streaming down her cheeks. Asami knelt beside her, wiping her tears away softly

“Korra,” she said. “Are you alright?”

Korra sniffed, nodded, and smiled a little. 

“Yeah. I'm okay. I think this is my favorite one.”

“I'm glad you like it,” came a voice from behind them. “I consider this to be the culminating piece of my entire body of work.”

Korra turned her head to see who had spoken, and her jaw dropped. A woman, looking to be in her early twenties, sat beside them. She had arrived in her electric wheelchair silently, and she was looking up at the painting. Then she glanced over at Korra and smiled, her dark eyes gentle and sympathetic. 

“This is the first thing I painted after my accident. I can tell I don't need to explain to you what it meant to me.”

“You’re…” Korra seemed hardly able to speak. “You're the artist?”

“Strange, I know,” the woman smiled. “A quadriplegic artist. But yes, it is possible, and yes, I am.”

“But how?” Korra asked

If she'd had command of her body, Asami was sure the woman would've shrugged. 

“Technology these days is a wonderful and revolutionary thing. My tools are all controlled by my mouth and head. Makes it a little simpler, really. Turns out you can make great art without having to train your hands at all.”

Asami couldn't see Korra’s face, but she heard the tears in her voice. 

“That's...this is amazing. This art is…” She stopped speaking and shook her head, clearly trying to compose herself. 

The woman's eyes were soft with understanding. 

“It's life changing,” she said knowingly. “It's what finally feeling purposeful looks like.”

“Yeah,” Korra whispered, nodding. 

Asami watched them, listening quietly as Korra spoke to someone who, for the first time, could truly understand her. Her questions poured out and the woman graciously answered as many of them as she could. Finally, though, she spoke up. 

“Korra, it's been incredible meeting you. I should probably mingle with my other guests, though.”

Korra nodded, but her expression fell. “Oh yeah, of course. I'm sorry for keeping you.”

The woman smiled. “Don't get all sour on me, now. Here.” She looked up at Asami, then nodded toward one of her arm rests. “Take one of my business cards, in that pouch there.”

Asami obeyed and the woman looked back at Korra. 

“Promise me you'll keep in touch, okay? I have a lot to talk to you about.”

“Of course,” Korra said eagerly. “I'd love to. Thank you so much.”

The woman smiled again and, with a parting nod, wheeled around and disappeared into the crowd.

 

* * *

 

On the way home that night, Korra never stopped raving about the woman and her art. Asami watched her as often as she dared, noting with joy that Korra seemed more like herself than she had in a long time. There was excitement in her voice, and light in her eyes, and Asami knew why. After months of watching the future fade away, Korra had finally found some hope. And that made all the difference. 


End file.
